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It was 2 a.m. when exhaustion finally broke me. I sat in a hard plastic chair in the ER, still wearing the same pajama pants I’d given birth in, rocking my three-week-old daughter, Olivia, who burned with fever and screamed until her tiny voice cracked. My incision ached, my eyes burned, and my body felt…
The ER wasn’t supposed to break me—but that night, it did. At 2 a.m., I sat in a plastic chair that groaned under my weight, rocking my feverish three-week-old while trying not to fall apart. Olivia’s cries scraped the edges of my sanity; my C-section scar burned with every breath. I whispered to her through…
At 2 a.m., I sat slumped in a plastic chair in the ER, still in the pajama pants I’d given birth in, clutching my three-week- old daughter. Olivia was burning with fever, screaming herself hoarse while my C-section scar throbbed. Exhausted and scared, I whispered through tears, trying to soothe her, when a man in…
I rushed my three-week-old, Olivia, to the ER in the middle of the night with a fever, aching from a C-section and terrified. In the harsh waiting room light, a well-dressed man sneered loud enough for everyone to hear, mocking me as a “single mom” wasting resources and demanding he be seen first. A doctor…
